The Last Spring
by chemiskorpion0002
Summary: They were caught in a circle that begins in her and ends with him, then starts all over again - a cycle - a loop that never ends. A GinRan Tribute
1. The Last Spring

Disclaimer:

I do not own Bleach. Bleach is by Kubo Tite

* * *

"So much happens to us while we live in this world that we must voice the thoughts that are in our hearts, conveying them through the things we see and the things we hear. We hear the bush warbler singing in the flowers or the voice of the frogs that live in the water and know that among all living creatures there is not one that does not have its song."

- Preface to Kokinshū

* * *

**The Last Spring**

It started beating once again –

The pulse of the earth

It was spring's melody –

The birds' chorus and the wind's beat

The grasses' dance and the sakura's bloom

...

The Earth sprung up once more –

Alive and beautiful

This spring is magnificent and lovely

Beautiful yet –

...

The last winter was not white

Nor was it pure or silent

The faded winter was war

The last battlefield they shared

The last ground they both stood on

...

Forget the soft snow fall

And the pureness of the sight

For that winter was burdened by blood

Filled with clashing swords

...

Of broken promises and love

Of sorry's never spoken

Of touches not given

Of tears and goodbyes

Of fallen lovers and fallen soldiers

...

This war was more than this war

Waged for love of power and ambition

The warriors fought their own battles

Inside their souls and hearts

_Their_ war waged for truth and love and vows

...

She wished to believe in the eternal circle

On cycles that goes forever

Like him coming and going, but returning always

For no matter how many times he leaves

He always comes in time to be her oxygen

...

And she breathes again

Like that fall, when he found her starving on the ground

Helpless and dying she was, but he came

He came and became her life line

...

Like the seasons

Summer, fall, winter, spring

It goes in cycle, on and on

Eventually summer ends and autumn comes

Just like him, and her, and them

...

She never thought it would be possible

But somehow it seems it is

The cycle could stop

He did not come back

...

He stared through his closed eyes

That strawberry blonde hair

Those shimmering icy-gray irises

That saddest smile

...

Nobody recognized them but he does

He does as they fade from his eyes

To be embossed like colorless pictures in his mind

He turns his back always, hoping that face will never fade from him

But every picture fades

...

It was his solace, his comfort

He knew she will never comprehend but she understands

She holds that power

Strength he could not muster himself, she gives it effortlessly

...

He thought as long as they exist, they will breathe each other

She was his spring –

The presence that brought forth color and music in his blood-ashen world

But as day fades to night, fall to winter

Spring goes away too

...

All lies they knew but maybe never have they admitted to their selves

All truths they knew but maybe never did they acknowledge

It is their life story – vague, confused and unknown

When she laughs, he can hear her pain

When he frowns, she can see his smile

...

They are like the opposite poles of a magnet

They exist together - not one without the other

There is no south pole without the north

But they cannot exist together - not with each other

...

Unusual it is, unusual they are

She questions but never asks

He answers but never says

What painful complement they are to each other

What perfect tragedy

...

That closing winter had passed

The snows had melted

The water unfrozen

The tears dried

...

The ash is gone, the dust is blown

The sun went too brightly, he cannot open his eyes

The wind no longer cold, she cannot hold her hands

Their keystone crumbled and the cycle stopped

The spring would no longer fade to summer

...

Life sprung once more, flourishing like a bountiful ocean

The flowers bloomed, of every possible color

The trees burst to life, green and brown and alive

The birds soared, flew against the heavens across the sky

...

The butterflies fluttered, from a grass to a tree

The sakura had showered its beautiful, most precious blossoms.

Picturesque it is, like a still life painting

So still it looks dead

Beautiful yet lifeless

_..._

_This is the last spring_

~0~0~0~

"Waking from a nap – the spring day has darkened"

– Yosa Buson


	2. Breaths

Disclaimer:

I do not own Bleach. Bleach is by Kubo Tite.

A/N:

It took me forever, but perhaps this is the best time anyway – September. Gin and Ran's birth month.

~0~0~0~

**The Last Spring:**

**Breaths**

* * *

_I miss those blue eyes, h__ow you kissed me at night_

_I miss the way we sleep_

_Like there's no sunrise, l__ike the taste of your smile_

_I miss the way we breathe_

_But I never told you w__hat I should have said_

_No I never told you, __I just held it in_

_And now I miss everything about you_

_I can't believe I still want you_

_After all the things we've b__een through_

_I miss everything about you_

_..._

_Without you_

_(I Never Told You, Colbie Caillat)_

* * *

He paused a breath to ponder on it.

Indeed, this must be the longest moment of his life and it is lingering still in its sluggish pace. He could soak up in every freaking second because it seems to take so long to pass.

Her sobs were amplified in his limited hearing range, competing with the wild but faint beat of his heart. The sound of it pierced him even sharper than the katana that left his body in this failing state. He felt the familiar warmth of her touch as she cradled his bloodied body.

He wished to hear her voice. But she stopped calling his name.

She's just, crying.

Crying the way Gin never heard her do. Well, he never really heard Rangiku cry before. At least never that she cried so openly before him, before.

It must be true, what they say - that in the last moment of your life your entire life would flashback in your eyes, as if relieving the journey. A befitting way to end.

Or is it?

He figured it isn't the best time to ponder on that.

Her breaths reminded him. _Fall_. It is always fall wasn't it.

Always fall.

They met one afternoon of fall, Rangiku on the ground, barely breathing from starvation. Now, they'll part ways, eternally, Gin on the ground, barely breathing from trying to get back what was taken from her.

Then again, he liked fall. He came to existence some 10th of September he was told, around mid-autumn. He was past the time he wished he never came to exist. After all, he came to meet Ran, didn't he? He met Rangiku around past mid-autumn, 29th of September, and they decided that'll be her birth date. That's another nice thing in fall. Then, persimmons come in season at the on-set of autumn too. All the good things in autumn.

Then it must be in accordance that he dies in winter because in winter, all the good things in autumn ends.

He drew uneven breaths as she held him tighter and he could imagine her face, her eyes, her tears. Though, yet again, he _never_ saw Rangiku cry before, cry before him.

He didn't like Rangiku crying. He liked the way Rangiku smiled, not really laugh. Laugh was easy but it was rare Rangiku smiles. She smiled when he comes home with dried persimmons. She said she liked it because it saved her once. He had been indulging himself to thinking that she meant the day he found her that day and gave her the dried persimmons he had that time. Persimmons and dried persimmons are different, she once said. Perhaps it is life's pun about them. Persimmons are full, bright and life against the naked branch of persimmon trees in autumn but it is when they aren't very much appreciated. Dried persimmons, however, are expensive and much wanted, better.

His head was becoming full of faded memories of younger days, carefree nights, when they worried most of having their persimmons. He almost smiled but the effort he needed to draw out his breaths held the smile back. He thought of another time Rangiku smiled. Ah, when he called her Ran-chan. She said the nickname ignored the origin of her name – kiku, rangiku, and she liked it because no one called her that before.

He wanted to lift his hand and run his fingers in her sun-kissed hair but he was too weak.

He remembered when he gave her an orange chrysanthemum, autumn's flower, because it is similar to the colour of her hair, and a white one because it is similar to her spirit. She smiled then and, to him he thinks, she almost cried. She never said why.

That night he first donned a shinigami uniform - it was the first time Rangiku asked something aloud and it was the first time he answered directly.

"_That was winter again, wasn't it?_" he thought - that night they ceased being kids. He began walking with a purpose that isn't entirely about him and she stopped smiling for herself.

And he walked a different path, away from her but lived because of her, for her. Sometimes, he'd like to think he was wrong for pursuing the road that led him away from her, even if it was for her. Even if it was for her, because she never knew it was for her. At least he never told her. Or he did but they were too young then to remember it now. Now, decades later, silence was a safer shadow and words are dangerous that they no longer had the courage to wield.

But he was glad he said _sorry_.

It was enough. Because Rangiku does not need to hear that he _loved_ her but she must know he was sorry. He was. He is. For love is an easy word but sorry isn't. All the courage he managed to slowly build, piece by piece, in his soul, all those times he was taking his small steps away from her, was for him to tell her that – he was sorry.

He is about to go anyway, perhaps, the gods will forgive him for being a downright coward this time. He heaved a heavy breath and called out. "Ran-chan," he said, though his voice was silent, as he drew another set of ragged breaths. He felt his heart clench in pain as he felt her breaths against his ear. "I love you."

He did not see, because he was too weak to open his eyes that Rangiku was crying hard, eyes closed, so she didn't see his mouth and did not hear his most quite whisper.

He felt like laughing for it was indeed so much easier to say than sorry. Sorry was liberating, _that_ was painful, more painful than all the pain he endured in his life.

_They, they were fall. _

They lived their lives in silence, with resonating stillness that spoke volumes. Like the gold and crimson of autumn they were beautiful as they fell, lovelier if they fall with the wind separating them. That is when they are most beautiful. Like purple and fading auburn of aging leaves, even in the approaching cloak of death, they were magnificent – a picture of eternal loneliness that is painted by the purest shade of love.

He wished as he drew a particularly difficult breath, Rangiku would kiss him one last time.

~0~0~0~

A/N:

Song reference: Colbie Caillat's I Never Told You.

It's bleeding with angst! Sorry, I had to vent it out, that's months and months of frustration. But that'll be the angstiest I have in store for this series.

I originally planned The Last Spring to be _chapters_ of poems but after the first one, I couldn't get myself to write anything that makes sense to me. I was just too bitter to keep going.

This September** Feisu-chan** and I thought of writing a weekly prompt on GinRan, as a tribute and celebration, and it got me to start writing on them again. This one is for the first week and I personally think this is too painful, so as I said earlier, this will be the angstiest. The next ones will be lighter.

It took me more than half-a-year to face it, but it's time to bid goodbye to them.

Three more.


	3. Broken

Disclaimer:

I do not own Bleach. Bleach is by Kubo Tite.

~0~0~0~

**The Last Spring:**

**Broken**

* * *

_The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight_

_The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head_

_I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead_

_I still see your reflection inside of my eyes_

_That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life_

_I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing_

_With a broken heart that's still beating_

_In the pain (in the pain) there is healing_

_In your name I find meaning_

_So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'),_

…

_I'm barely holdin' on to you_

_(Broken, Lifehouse)_

* * *

It was a hectic week but at least it is getting better. The system is slowly gaining equilibrium. The reconstitution of the Gotei was a huge step. It filled up gaps. Working is getting more organized, better than it was since, _since_ quite some time. She slid open the shouji door of her room. It was nice to have an early out from work today. The late afternoon breeze quickly made its greetings.

She's been doing _this_ for since she got tired of looking on how others were coping from the remnants of Winter War - watching the familiar, _unchanging_ scenery from her room. The habit got her around late spring that year. She saw the lasts of the season fall out to the lush green of summer. That entire summer, she spent hours in each day watching the life brim. When she's too busy to spare time during the day, she'd spend the night just watching the stars towering above the trees too full of leaves. She had, for the longest time she could remember since then, sought comfort from the seemingly unchanging environment. Only that, as it did now, her comfort is showing her how everything changes.

The leaves of trees are changing colors. It reminded her, it's been a year now. Or almost. She could see from where she was standing the trees _he_ planted by her division. The fruits seem to be starting to fill. _Bright orange persimmons_. For a while she stood there gazing at _the_ autumn. She understood watching the old persimmon trees won't bring the one who planted them from nowhere to pick its ripening fruits and dry them. Still she gazed at them with great affection, even if it sent pangs of hurt in her soul.

"Gin." His name sounded distant to her as she whispered it against the cool autumn breeze, but it sent a comforting chill in her. The familiarity of such an odd name brought a smile in her face. She briefly wondered if he ever realized how alike he was with persimmons. With a sad smile, she thought of why she liked persimmons a lot.

It wasn't actually because he _liked_ it – it was because it _was like_ him.

The wind blew again carrying with it leaves and leaves as they fell from trees. Despite the melancholy of falling leaves, they were always beautiful. There is grace in their fall. She watched the leaves dangle hopelessly in the branches of the old trees as another gust of the wind blew rather harshly. There was something comforting by the way it holds on.

A skylark sang in the distance. The persimmons beamed brightly at her.

She chuckled to herself. She could still see Gin in her eyes. She moved back as she slid close the door and felt her heart clench in a familiar pain.

* * *

"He used to dry persimmons too." Kira mused as Rangiku handed him some.

Rangiku nodded but said nothing more. She only spoke after Kira sampled one. "How's it?" she asked.

"Good." He said, watching Rangiku carefully.

Rangiku clapped her hands cheerfully and handed him a basket full of the dried fruit. "Give some to your division members, ne?"

Kira looked uncertain but accepted the basket nonetheless.

"I'm going then." She said as she turned around with easy grace.

"Where are you going?"

She glanced back to him, "I'm giving out dried persimmons."

A cold chill gripped Kira as he watched Rangiku walk away. It reminded him so much of his former captain that it scared him. "Matsumoto-fukutaicho." he called out, voice breaking in concern.

The way he called her made her stop in her tracks and turn to him. She smiled softly. Perhaps sometimes, she thought, hiding behind her bubbly self made her too transparent for people. She waved at him, pushing all the answers to his question in the smile she mustered for him.

Kira remained watching her, as impassive as he could, only breaking into a relieved smile when she'd gone from the third division.

* * *

Hitsugaya could have scolded her again if he didn't realize right away that she's giving him _dried persimmon. _He threw her a quick inquiring glance before breaking down to his usual demure. "Did you skip your paper works yesterday to dry those?" he asked her, sarcastically, or at least trying to be, while he continued scribbling in documents that was supposed to be finished yesterday.

Rangiku brought a pout as she placed her basketful of dried persimmon in her captain's table, "But taichou, the sun was great yesterday! It was best for drying persimmons. I don't have a choice! Paper works on the contrary," she crossed her arms in her chest in exasperation, "comes every day. What's the difference?"

Hitsugaya felt his brows twitch. Expect Rangiku Matsumoto to come up with that. He turned to glare at his pouting lieutenant. "The difference Matsumoto is," he picked up the document he just finished completing and thrust it in front of her, "_this_ should have been finished yesterday."

Rangiku looked away innocently before turning to her dried persimmons. "Ne Taichou!" she sang sweetly as she smiled to her and offered him one, "It's really good! You should try one!"

Annoyed, Hitsugaya snatched the dried fruit from her and pointed to her desk with the hand holding the paper, "I got it. Now go finish your paper works."

She grinned happily at him before picking up her basket, "So there. Now I'm off to the 11th division."

"What 11th division?" Hitsugaya restrained from yelling, as he debated which of his things in the table should be thrown to his vice-captain.

Rangiku turned around gaily at him then with a _smile_ and waved to him. "Mata ne Taichou!" Then Matsumoto Rangiku was out, shifting to shunpo with her next step.

Restrained be damned, Hitsugaya Toshiro yelled, "Matsumotoooo!"

* * *

He sighed, exasperated with _that_ recurring scene, then remembered the dried persimmon she minded bugging him with. He fell back to his chair, looking at the door she just went out from. He took a bite of the dried fruit.

Well, it was indeed good.

But what's better, Hitsugaya thought, as he resigned himself to letting his vice-captain off this time, is that her smiles are better. The fact that she _dried_ persimmons, the fruit and the gesture too tied up with her childhood friend, spoke volumes. He took another bite. On the outside it seems impossible to know the difference. Matsumoto remained her usual carefree, sake-drinking, always-slacking-from-work lieutenant. She laughs as heartily as she used to and drinks as heavily as she used to. But he'd known Matsumoto long enough to realize when her expressions are a shade genuine. Though he understood he never saw the entirety of the _real_ Matsumoto, he at least had the slightest inkling when she isn't behind her veil. He made a small smile, a sigh of relief escaping him despite himself.

He thought she'd never smile like that after losing him - that smile twined with all the sadness that comes with it but a true smile nonetheless.

"Fine," he said aloud, as he took another bite and stood up from his desk, "just this once." He went over to her desk, biting the remaining dried persimmon and keeping it there safely with his teeth, and scooped up the unfinished papers stocked up there.

* * *

She slumped at the corner of her room as soon as she got in and had slid the door close. She was _tired_. She never realized there were that many divisions in Gotei. It took her literally the whole day, or more, given that it is almost evening now. It was way more tiring than working on paper works, though it was way more thrilling. Briefly, as she closed her eyes, she remembered Gin handing out dried persimmons at this time of the year, back when he was still in Gotei. She sighed deeply as her little reverie ended up again, however she tried to avoid it, to the realization that he's gone.

When she opened her eyes to the darkness of her room, she felt a great weight leave her as she breathed.

She's too broken now to ever become whole again. A part of her was gone with him, rendering her eternally incomplete, until, until they meet again. In the meantime, while she's still alive, breathing, despite being broken, despite being hurt, she'll keep holding on.

Because there was nothing to let go. Not him and not life either. She's merely falling apart and perhaps she'll have to wait until she's nothing but pieces – broken enough to stop. Until then, she'll hold on.

There was an eerie silence in the room that drowned out even the deep breaths she was drawing. Outside, she heard a sharp gust of wind. She closed her eyes again then felt the cold air of autumn fill the room.

As the cold breeze embraced her, she broke into a smile. "Happy birthday Gin." She whispered, her silent tears falling into her smile. She rested her head against the wall.

"_Ichimaru Gin. Nice to meet you."_

Her smile grew until she was chuckling. She'll hold on, as long as he's alive enough in her heart that he'll keep her smiling just by the sound of his odd name.

She never felt so calmed for so long. It's been a year now. It's been several tens of years now. But even then, his name remains her healing.

"Gin." She said, louder than a whisper, "what a strange name..."

~0~0~0~

A/N:

Song reference: Broken by Lifehouse

It's a late (very late I think) birthday fic for Ichimaru Gin (September 10).

Two more to go.


	4. Silver

Disclaimer:

I do not own Bleach. Bleach is by Kubo Tite.

~0~0~0~

**The Last Spring:**

**Silver**

* * *

_Holding my breath_

_Last one I've got left 'til I see you_

_Deliver my heart with the pieces and parts of me left_

_Every last day seemed to carry the weight a life time_

_I can live with your ghost_

_If you say that's the most I'll get_

_Distance can't take what is hidden here safe in my chest_

_Sweet sun, send me the moon, empty the skies out_

…

_Bringing me one step closer to you_

_(Send me the Moon, Sara Bareilles)_

* * *

Hitsugaya Toshiro arranged his robes properly as he gazed on the slow sunrise. The cool wind of the early morning kept reminding him of _the_ day. A strange flutter kept lurching in his stomach – a mixture of pain and a sense of letting go. After all, he knew it is where she was heading.

If anything, Hitsugaya remembered it clearly that he could see it happening all over again whenever he recalls it.

* * *

It was one thing that defined the relationship of the 10th squad's captain and vice-captain. Despite their many complaints about each other, they always had each other's back. Loyalty, faith and respect – it is what Hitsugaya had always had for his vice-captain, and what he always felt Matsumoto had always had for him. An excellent example of a superior and subordinate – that was what they were. But beneath that, the unwavering understanding was born from their friendship – an unlikely friendship that allowed them to support each other.

It was why, without Hitsugaya saying anything, Matsumoto understood what Hinamori was for him. It was also why, despite all circumstances, Hitsugaya understood why Matsumoto held on Ichimaru.

He never faltered in complaining about her constant slacking from work, the same way he never faltered in trusting Matsumoto with his back.

It was why he did as she said.

"Go now Taicho." She said, speaking from behind him, facing the enemy. "I'll take on this one."

Wasn't it the same way she said she'll handle Kira when the 3rd squad vice-captain impeded their way to the Central 46? Wasn't it the same way she said she'll handle Halibel's fraccion while he'll attend to the espada?

"Are you sure?" Hitsugaya asked, as he always did whenever they get to this scene.

He heard her draw her zanpakutou. "Yes."

He poised for flight. "Be careful Matsumoto," he said then he was off.

He still heard the first clank of crossing sword before a strong glint of silver from her direction made him turn around.

It was the reflection of the sun to her zanpakutou, apparently just before she called out her shikai. For Hitsugaya saw nothing but a cloud of ash enveloping her fight.

* * *

It should have been a premonition but he was too stubborn to admit.

That's why he did his best to bring her back, summoning the 4th squad captain herself with a hell butterfly while rushing back to Seretei at the same time. That's why despite him barely knowing anything on healing, he tried his best to attend to her. That's why he insisted, even if she asked him to let her go, on getting her treated.

His grandmother used to tell him of souls tied up from the beginning, travelling universes and times _together_. It's called by many names, as anything legendary is. Some calls it soul mates, some destiny, others fate, serendipity, and some hitsuzen. He was a witness to her unwavering belief in him, loving him across the distance that inevitably separated them, just as how he was a witness to how he is someone else for her, how he'd change, flee as well as fight a battle for her.

It made him believe that if hitsuzen is real, Gin and Rangiku are undoubtedly caught in it.

Perhaps that's why it had to happen _that_ day, in the night flooded by the moon's light that the lake in the edge of Soul Society was glistening in silver. The calm look at her face was another sign. And Matsumoto told him, as she gazed lovingly at the moon while Hitsugaya held her broken body, that she met _him_ that day.

"The moon taicho." He remembered her saying, her failing voice.

"It is full moon tonight." He answered, fighting off the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"_Gin…_"

She meant silver, as in the_ silver_ shine of the moon, but Hitsugaya understood. So he let her go as he let his tears go. It was there his vice-captain bid him farewell.

* * *

He carefully placed the white chrysanthemum he was holding on for the entire time to the grave marker before him. It was uncharacteristic with sunrise but a wild wind blew and sent a shower of the fall's leaves. He dragged a heavy sigh as he resigned himself to thinking that he had it in him for awhile – that insistent feeling that with Gin gone, Rangiku would _inevitably_ follow.

It made him smile despite the weight of loss in his chest. He didn't just lose a vice-captain anyway, he lost a friend. But just as Matsumoto would always have his back, it is in him to be happy that his vice-captain is now free – free to be born somewhere else with him.

And perhaps, he wished, as he prepared to leave and return to his squad barracks to formally introduce the squad's new vice-captain, they'll have a better story that next lifetime.

~0~0~0~

A/N:

Song reference: Send Me the Moon by Sara Bareilles

I took in here the concept of hitsuzen from CLAMP.

A belated birthday fic for Rangiku Matsumoto (September 29).


End file.
